


1823 to 1984.

by Luc4w4st4k3n



Series: Lore Fics [1]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny, Other, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Time Travel, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, dreamnap, dreamnotfound, hi this fic has a lot of tws pls read them, im serious pls do, major TWs, minors arent shipped ofc ofc, niki and wil arent shipped here cuz no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 22:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luc4w4st4k3n/pseuds/Luc4w4st4k3n
Summary: George found something resembling what people in 1984 would see as a telephone. How does one respond to something they didn't even know existed? How does the future affect the past..It shouldn't, right?What happens if he meets the love of his life through it?1823 to 1984. Too much of a time difference for even the most skilled of time travelers, or the most normal of men.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Lore Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210310
Kudos: 2





	1823 to 1984.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYBODY  
> YES THIS IS A BACKGROUND FIC !!  
> THE OTHER ONE IS MY MAIN DWDW  
> ===========  
> ++ I don't personally like dnf, but it's a heavy topic in this fic for plot purposes   
> ++ Be prepared to cry  
> ===========  
> WARNINGS  
> ++ ANGST  
> ++ GORE  
> ++ SEVERE HOMOPHOBIA - TO THE POINT OF KILLING -- F SLUR MENTIONED / USED {i can reclaim pls dont yell @ me}  
> ++ MID 1800S ENGLAND AU // 1980S AU -- TIME TRAVEL/DIFFERENCE AU  
> ++ MENTIONS OF NUDITY  
> ++ MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL  
> ++ MENTIONS OF PROSTITUTION MURDER   
> ++ MENTIONS OF CANCER AND OTHER THEN-UNTREATABLE CONDITIONS  
> ============

_ {Chapter One - 1823.} _

The year was 1823, and George had little to no contact with the outside world. Twas to be expected, though, he was in line for the throne, even if he didn’t want it. His mother spent no time of day forgetting to remind him of who he could turn to be if he were - well, allowed outside. He was your stereotypical, “faggot.” Lanky, and not the most masculine man to ever exist. This, though, did not mean he was homosexual, as he was raised to know and understand that it’s a severe sin to be gay. Honestly, he was probably the straightest person you’d ever meet, really, just - didn’t  _ look it _ , according to most. It made him very insecure, if he ever were to go outside, would he be stoned just for looking like an outcast?

He sighed, and walked downstairs in loose attire. The white bedridden cloth he was using for a shirt was practically slipping off his arm. It exposed most of his shoulder on the right side, his pale skin, and defined collarbone really stood out, though he didn’t really care.

“Darling, please step downstairs for a moment.” His mother called, so he obliged, he wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at.

As he stepped down the stairs, he got himself more situated, running his hands through his locks, and adjusting the cloth he wore.

His mother glanced up at him with her auburn eyes, they locked with his individually coloured ones. One of his eyes was a glistening blue, that you could only explain as the pure flowiness of the oceanic winds, and the other was the same colour as his mother’s eyes ; an auburn brown, perfectly describing the tinted warm winds of fall.

“Oh dear, you should definitely get yourself prepared next time,” she stated in a soft and loving tone - but George could see through that, as if her whole facade was translucent. 

He rubbed at his drooping eyes, tired from restless nights, “Sorry, ma’am. I had quite the headache last night.”   
“Ah,, does make sense. I called you down for breakfast, it’ll be done in a quick second. May you go grab the mail, George?” The lady of the house asked, she had to do everything involving cleanup, child-care, cooking, yardwork, and many other things. His father never helped, he was the “man  of the household,” and it was the “lady’s job” to do any of the hassle-work. Quite unfair, George did think.

“Yes, mother, of course. I’ll be back shortly.” George stated, smiling lightly - to which his mother smiled back. He understood and forgave his mother whenever she would lash out and hurt him, I mean, she always apologized. With her doing all the work, and the hittings by his father, it must be stressful.

He stepped out of his house, which he was hesitant to do, even if there was grand fencing around the estate. He noticed something in the corner of his eye, a specific something that he’d never seen before. It was red - in contrast to everything else around him, which he saw in distorted colour,, but this, whatever this was, was a colour he’d never seen. Normal people with normal eyesight would call it red, but to George, ‘red’ was a weird and ugly colour, one he honestly despised. He was drawn to whatever this thing was, and so he picked it up. It was sort of a shape like a semi-circle, but not completely there, both ends of it were thicker, and had holes in it. He grabbed it in an awkward position, not exactly knowing what he was supposed to do. He adjusted his hand, and then it started making a weird sound, sort of like wind chimes but worse. It was disturbing, he didn’t know what to do, and then the ringing stopped. A voice emerged.

“Goddamnit..- I think I-” the voice was distorted, he wouldn’t describe it like speaking to his mother or father.

“How are you- what?” George exclaimed, then finished his statement with, “what is this thing? I’m so confused..How’re you speaking to me? I see nobody around!” His accent was thick and natural, barely distinguishable.

“What do you mean? I just called you?”

“You couldn’t of! I hear nor see nobody near me.”

The voice scoffed, “sorry for getting the wrong number, but are you okay in the head?”   
“Yes, I do believe I’m fine, I’m just confused because I’m talking to thou and I shouldn’t be able to!” 

“Hold on, did you just use.. ‘Thou’?”

“Of course! It’s proper grammar.”

“What year are you livin’ in, damn.” The voice said in a joking tone, but George couldn’t tell that much, he took it as an actual question.

“Eighteen-Twenty-Three, like everybody else? My mother could confirm, if she were not preparing the fire, now.”   
“What do you mean..eighteen-twenty-three? Dude, it’s nineteen-eighty-four!” The voice exclaimed rather loudly.

“No, no, it cannot be so. I’m in line for the throne, at that.” George stated, as he grabbed the letters he had gotten delivered. “I need to go hand the letters to my mother, I’ll be back.” 

\--------------------------------

The boy living in 1984 was extremely confused. He could not be speaking to someone from the 1800s, as they had a phone. His logic wasn’t flawed, correct? I mean, that and basic knowledge proves otherwise. He waited, and waited, for the person on the other end to come back. 

As he was still ; the boy paced around his room, waiting a little, and then waiting some more, until he heard a, “I’m back, sir.”

He jumped, laughing a little. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any suggestions? Feel free to leave them in the comments.
> 
> 1132 WORDS


End file.
